On a recent flight home from San Francisco, I looked out the window at one point and was once again struck by a feeling I often have when flying: a total sense of humbleness. Soaring above the ground and seeing how small cities look, how small the ribbon of roads that run through them are, and the specks of vehicles traversing them, a pattern repeated between major swathes of untouched land, I once again had a sense of my smallness.
Actually, the word that comes to mind is “minuscule.” I’m but a mere fleck in the wind when I think of the land below and how it may be one forkful of a slice of our country, which is just another ingredient in the pie that makes up our world. And how Earth is just one dot in the fabric of the Universe… (Well, that’s mixing metaphors, but hopefully you catch my drift.)
Yes. It all makes me realize just how teeny tiny I am, and that makes me very humble indeed.
We may be big within our own circles or communities, but as far as the Universe goes, we’re less than a speck. Depressing? Maybe. When I mentioned it to Wayne, he thought it was. He’s never had any feelings from looking out a plane window except to try and orient himself about which state we’re flying over.
But I’m always left in awe, mixed with humility. Because the magic really lies in the fact that somehow we all come together to form something bigger. Something that couldn’t exist without each of our unique contributions, as small as they may be.
So, yes. Flying makes me humble, but ironically enough, it also grounds me.
What makes you feel both humble and grounded?